


A Wolf on Thin Ice

by KaisaSegher



Series: Counting Scars [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Minor Original Character(s), Post S06, R plus L equals J, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 08:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12700782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaisaSegher/pseuds/KaisaSegher
Summary: With the Others so close to their home, Sansa has left all her family behind so she could fight for them. But queen Daenerys doesn't seem too keen on listening to the Northeners' requests.





	A Wolf on Thin Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! So I've picked up this series again, but I have to warn you I don't have much time to write at the moment, so updates will be apart af.  
> I thought that maybe some of you would need a "previously on" (I know I did when writing for this series again):  
> 1) That scene on S06 where Jon is made King in the North never happened  
> 2) Daenerys conquered the South and the North bent the knee to her with Sansa as Lady of Winterfell  
> 3) Jon was always a bastard (Rhaeger and Lyanna never married)  
> 4) Littlefinger was kicked out of Winterfell at some point  
> 5) Jon and Sansa got married and had 2 children (Robb and Benjen)  
> 6) Daenerys married a Tyrell, has no children yet and is a loving aunt  
> 7) Arya got back to Winterfell  
> 8) The Northmen want their independence  
> 9) The Others attacked Skagos  
> 10) The North is trying to negotiate a better status amongst other Westerosi houses  
> 11) Sansa went to Riverrun to a summit with other houses and the queen in order to plan their strategy against the others  
> 12) Arya went searching for Bran  
> I guess this covers it!  
> Hope you enjoy!

People chatting mercilessly. The harp, drums, the flute, too loud. The light of a thousand candles too bright. Even the queen’s laughter was too much. And yet nothing would compare to the sight of those three pairs of scaled wings flying over the castle and clouding what was left of the winter sun.

It was warmer here. Though warm did not quite describe it. Everything was cold this days, since winter came and snow had covered every last bit of grass and stone. But tonight they had boar, and pheasant, and deer like it was still summer. Or summer had come back.

It was too warm for her, anyway.

And the Dragon Queen shone brighter than anybody, her silver hair almost made gold by the fire, sitting on a chair that now belonged to Lord Edmure Tully, Lady Catelyn’s brother.

She knew almost every person on that room was related to her. But right now Sansa just could not feel it. She was utterly alone, sitting a few chairs away from the queen, a position too low for someone whose land and men were the only barrier standing between the South and the Others. Between life and death. Alone, for everyone who truly meant something- everything- to her had stayed behind. Alone, even loathing herself, for how could a mother endure being parted from her children.

Her lady mother had done the same. Sansa had always thought it had been for love. To free her lord husband, to avenge Bran, to get her daughters back. And every time Sansa thought about a bronze crown upon her firstborn’s head a thick fear froze her veins, just like her lady mother might have felt when Robb’s bannermen knelt in front of him with cries about “the King in the North”.

That had been Catelyn Stark, but Sansa knew mothers could feel greed just as well as fear. The Gods knew Cersei had, and that did not mean she loved her children any less.

And look how it had ended up for them both. And now Sansa herself was trailing down the same path, walking on a thin layer of ice over turbulent waters. Who knew where the stream would lead her? How it would twirl around her dress and pull her to the bottom, her fingers clawing at the ankles of her loved ones as they drowned with her.

It would have been easier, if it was just her. If she did not care for someone else. But there was Robb and Benjen and Jon and Arya. And another one on the way which she had not told anyone about just yet.

And there _he_ was, too close to the queen.

Of course. It could not have been any other way. Not even Lord Varys had been clever enough to keep Littlefinger away. No one was, after all. Sansa had not understood yet how she and Jon had drove him away from Winterfell. After Daenerys had started her reign Sansa suspected he had smelt a new, fresher, and much juicier pray. And most likely to win in case there was another war between north and south.

Nothing changed. Nothing truly ever changed. Greed and betrayal still whispered behind perfectly groomed beards and powdered cheeks and Sansa hated it. Hated it with all her strength, too tired of the pretences, too tired of a game she had never wished to play in the first place. She wanted to be home again, with Benjen and Robb squeezed tight against her chest until nothing could harm them. Jon’s wide smile, when she told him they would have another child, even though it was too soon after Benjen, another strong babe to run with the wolves.

Now the halls that had seen her lady mother grow up were filled with snakes, hissing on the queen’s ears, eager for her favour. But they did not frighten her. She was not a little mouse, not anymore. She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, the second most powerful woman on that table, even though her seat did not reflect her status. Almost half the kingdom belonged to her, to her family, either Sansa willed it or not.

“I am still surprised Jon did not come with you, my dear lady” Tyrion Lannister said, ironically- and mercifully, for it avoided unwanted attention- sited next to her. “Being the queen’s nephew and all.”

Many years had passed since he had put his cloak on her shoulders. Many years had passed since the girl that had stood shaking before the High Septon had died. But not too many had passed since Sansa had finally realized how kind he had been to her. Of all who had crossed her path on those dark times he had been the only one who had been gentle to her without expecting anything in return. Perhaps she should have learned to play the game with him, not with Littlefinger.

But she had learned anyway. And she was learning still.

“I suppose someone had to stay with our children, don’t you think, my lord?” she remarked, a polite smile on her lips as she raised her cup to them.

“Who would have thought? Last time I saw your brother-“ he interrupted himself, his eyes wide. Sansa waved her hand, dismissing the slip. “Your husband. Forgive me, my lady, but last time I saw him he was still Ned Stark’s bastard and it is difficult to think about him any other way. Besides the striking resemblance, your lord father made him who he is today.”

That was true. They might have never been brother and sister, but her lord father had been his father too.

“But last time I saw your lord husband he was no more than a naïve young man, his head filled with the heroic tales of the men of the Night’s Watch. And it is quite amusing to imagine him as home-ridden father of two as his beautiful, clever wife travels South alone.”

“You won’t gain anything from me with flatter, Lord Tyrion” Sansa said, with a chuckle. “And I am not alone. Lady Brienne is more than glad to have me to protect again.”

She nodded to a faraway part of the hall, to the towering woman wearing ill-fitted leather and a nervous smile as one of the queen’s Unsullied said something to her.

“They said she was mortified when she heard about Arya’s return, as if she had failed her oath to Lady Catelyn” Tyrion said, taking yet another sip of wine.

“She has no reason to. I was the one to relieve her from her oath and Arya did not wish to be found.”

Tyrion laughed.

“Not even my dearest late sister could find her. Let us raise our glasses to that.”

Sansa smiled and joined him. That Cersei was now gone was a benefit to everyone. Even to her twin. No doubt Ser Jaime was freer on the luxurious prison cell the queen had allowed him to live - certainly because of Tyrion- to atone for his past crimes than in his sister’s claws. If he felt it or not was another matter entirely.

They clashed their cups, even though Sansa had little to celebrate. Yet another day had passed, another wasted day.

She sighed, dragging her feet along the floor, too tired again. It had been another long fruitless night. Too many flies floating around the queen. Perhaps Sansa should remind Daenerys that they were family. Or that if Sansa turned her back on them they would all be dead in a couple of moons.

Perhaps she should. Perhaps she would, after all.

She had vowed to never leave her home again, long ago. She should never have come. Her place was in the North. Her place was with the ones who loved her. With her people. Sansa dreamt every night with the moment she would cross Winterfell’s gates again. How she would throw her arms around Jon's neck and whisper their success into his ear. How she would tell him everything was going to end up perfectly and how she would tell him about the babe and fight about this one's name again. Anything. Anything that would prove all this time apart had not been for nothing. That she was not a bad mother, nor a bad wife, nor a bad sister, nor a bad lady for leaving everyone behind.

But half a moon's turn had passed since she had left the high towers of her home behind and still the queen would refuse an audience with her. She was too busy, with all the bees buzzing around her head, spiting honey from their lips. There had been a time Sansa had been eager to please just as well. That time was over. This was no time for silly games, the ones Littlefinger and Cersei had liked to play. This was the time for strategy, alliances, working as one. Not trying to win some frivolous personal game.

She smirked. And what was she trying to gain, after all? What were they trying to achieve, if not exactly that?

A principality. That was more like a fancy name on a paper and new titles, but no real power or benefit. Sure, the North would pay less taxes, but would it really make any difference? Most of it was about bowing only to the queen and sitting between her and the other lords. More a matter of protocol than real power or profit. Would that appease their people? Likely not, but at least it would buy them some time. The Others first, then they would talk about independence. Then they would be in a position to _talk_ about it, after the war had been won.

“Can I walk you to your chambers, my lady?” Brienne panted right behind her, the clang of her heavy boots announcing her proximity just a few heartbeats before she spoke.

“Nothing would please me more, lady Brienne.” Sansa smiled, reaching out for the other woman’s elbow and hooking her velvet sleeved arm on Brienne’s. “It is very pleasant to have you around again, you know that?”

“I’m glad it is so, lady Sansa. I do not mean to bother you, but you know I don’t-“

“Trust him. I know” Sansa cut, as they walked- more like marched together to her lady mother’s old chambers. “And though I like to think I can manage on my own I know that having you beside me will deter an unwanted confrontation.”

Sansa believed Brienne did not do this only out of duty, though that might play an important part to her motives. But the lady knight loathed the fawners even more than Sansa herself did, and she grasped every opportunity she could to be away from them. And Sansa was truly thankful for that. Brienne was blunt and honest, and that was a breath of fresh air that south of the Neck.

"You would be more than welcome at Winterfell, you know?" Sansa said, looking straight ahead.

"Whatever you wish of me, my lady" Brienne mumbled, a slight tone of surprise on her raspy voice.

“If that was what you wanted, I mean” Sansa emended quickly. “From where I stand- though perhaps I am wrong- you do not seem particularly happy here, my lady.”

"I would be honoured to serve you, Lady Sansa, if that is what is required of me." Brienne vowed solemnly, her pacing just as steady as before.

Gods, that woman truly had a thick skull! Just like everyone else Sansa had left at home. But that kind of behaviour she could manage. Not so much the masks she had dropped some time ago.

How ironic was it that Arya had refused to follow Brienne after being found? Though Brienne was more collected than her chaotic sister, to say the least. But surely they would have been great friends, two women striving in a world of men, being mocked by their unusual interests. Perhaps they could make a sisterhood or something, maybe including Lyanna Mormont.

Sansa almost laughed at the idea. The three of them in a room, that would certainly be interesting to watch.

And even though Sansa’s occupations had not been as unusual as theirs, she had strived and been mocked just as well. Perhaps it had nothing to do with what one chose to entertain oneself with. Perhaps the world was just wrong.

"Lady Brienne, you have been not only a loyal sworn sword but also a dear friend. Even though Jon and I- and, I daresay, my sister when she comes back home- would be more than glad to have you with us, I would like you to be happy, in the first place” Sansa said, tilting her head up so she could look the other woman in the eye.

“I- I don’t know what to say, my lady” Brienne stuttered.

Brienne breathed in, stopping in the middle of the hall and interesting herself in her worn out boots.

"This world was never right, you know, my lady? Life for us women was never easy" she sighed.

"You are more than right about that."

Brienne sighed again, but looked her in the eye this time.

“Perhaps maybe, just maybe, it is not wrong to hope. I know these are dark times, but perhaps when this is all finished, we could set somethings right. I had hoped, with a new queen…” Brienne trailed of, as if she couldn’t find the proper words.

“That perhaps a woman, a little less mad than Cersei, would set things right? Me too, lady Brienne. But, alas, it seems our world is flawed, and so are the people in it” Sansa said, a sad smile on her face and her arm again on Brienne’s as they continued their path. “But I see your point.  We could do something to make it righter, at least. While other do not, women like you and I have the queen’s ear. Well, unfortunately, it seems I don’t.”

“Kings and queens change and yet the same birds flock around them.”

“Then maybe the problem does not lie on who sits on the Iron Throne, but who lurks in the shadows behind it.”

Daenerys had promised to break the wheel, when she had landed on Westeros. But maybe someone raised on the wrong side of the Narrow Sea could not know what wheel truly needed breaking.

Perhaps not even Sansa or Brienne really knew.

**Author's Note:**

> So I know it's not much but I couldn't leave this story abandoned as it was. I know our dears are currently apart but fear not for them, for I have a (too) soft heart. Thank you so much for reading!


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